Longwood College - Virginian Yearbook (Farmville, VA)

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Pt ophecy fo7 ' Class of January igo4 WHILE pondering upon what the future might bring to tlie different members of the January class of l ' .)n4, 1 dropped into sleep and fell adreaming. Years seemed to have passed. I was no longer a school girl, but had beconte a full-fledged pedagogue, still on the sunny side of forty. I fovmd myself alighting at the station at Farmville, my mission being to deliver at the State Normal School my now famous address on The Necessity of a Standing Posture During the Recitation. As 1 looked around, a stately looking gentleman, with elastic step, approached me. Allow me, he said; is this Miss Topping? To which I replied, I consider this none of your business, sir. Beg pardon, but I was sent to meet you by my wife, whom you probably remember as Mildred Evans. Then it dawned upon me that this AVas Mr. , now secretary of our old school. Fearing that my pedagogical sternness might have seemed somewhat rude, I answ-ered, Yes, indeed, I remember her, the brown-eyed, gentle- browed girl who was salutatorian of our class. At the familiar old front door of the Normal School I was met by ] Iildred, and with her, wonder of wonders! was Louise Godwin, now the matron of her own Alma Mater. I was shown into the parlor, which had become several times the size of the one I k«ew, in order to accommodate the increasing number of girls who have companv on Friday evening. Well, Mildred, I said, doesn ' t this seem like old times for three of our class to be together within these familiar walls? It brings back memories of the others. Can you tell me anything about them? There are so many of whom I ne er hear. Lucile Moomaw is assistant matron. Her amiable disposition and soothing pats on the back have won for her a tender spot in the girls ' hearts. Do you remember Marie Etheridge? For nearly three j ' ears she occupied the chair of English in the National Uni ' ersity at Washington, but was finally asked to resign be- cause she persisted in spelling the participle ' been ' ' B-e-n, ' and with a capital letter. In less than six months after her resignation, the president of that college, while reading an invitation to her marriage, learned the cause of such a mistake. Then there is Charlotte Merrell, broke in Louise, the girl who used to read every- thing, and remembered all she ever read. She is now perched on the history pedestal of Vassar. I had a letter from Mary Gray last week. She is happy in her chosen work at the head of a query department in Washington. Ah, yes! said I, I remember she always could ask more questions than anybody else, and many of them were stich as would have puzzled Socrates himself. I know you will w ' onder at he change that has come oA ' er Annie Mason. Yoti remem- ber how she disliked the gymnasium, and whenever possible found an excuse to be absent. Well, some years ago she broke down under the strain of superintending the primary schools of Boston. The doctors gave her no hope, but some physical-culture director undertook her case, and after he cured her, she was so enthusiastic oxer the work that she took her whole course. Now she is coach of the ball teams at Bryn Mawr. Do you know what has become of Bertha Harris? Yes, to be sure! Her placidity of manner and soothing ' oice ha -e won for her the position of principal attendant in one of the most famous rest cures for nervous invalids in New York. Just then the servant presented a card. Looking at it, Mildred exclaimed: Who! what! Carrie Sutherlin, Traveling Secretary of the State Missionary Union? At this moment a tall, slender woman, with light hair and blue eyes, was ushered into the room. Well, Carrie, I cried, I knew you were destined to fill some such noble position. We

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We shall never lose the picture of Miriam Hearring, with her bright lace ever lifted upward, her eves smiling, her voice ringing clear and true as she sings herself and her children into the bliss of music, and cheers her class-mates with the joyousness of a nature that seems never to have known a cloud. See Eva Heterick, faithful as a teacher, as a student never seeking to rule, but ever eager to serve — to do some kindly deed. Lucile Moomaw and Annie McLaughlin go their quiet ways, winning our respect by their determination to succeed. Claudia Perkins is strong already in knowledge of her own powers as a woman, and A ' et happv and merry as a child with a fountain of jov in her heart. Courtney Taylor has always been so modest that even the verdict of the faculty cannot persuade her of her merits. Martha Holman is so enamored of bravery and courage as to become in her acting of the soldier wonderfulh ' realistic. Louise Godwin has been so attentive to her duties as to give us little chance to know her as we wish. Charlotte Merrill is already wielding the power of a gifted pen. Ilia Miller and Bertie Eaton have been so devoted to each other as to be slow in finding how beloved they are by the rest of the class. Carrie and Bessie McGeorge. who are so much alike physically as to make it impossible for the servants to tell which from tother — are also so alike in spirit as to call forth our wonder that two souls could be created so exactly alike in goodness and truth. Each girl ' s character has helped to make the character of the class. Twenty- two proud heads are lifted higher to be crowned with priceless praise by her who has had the task of directing the home life of the school. This she bestowed upon us as a class when she said we had betrayed no trust, brought no reproach upon the institution she would have us honor, or the example she has ever tried to set before us. Twenty-two proud hearts swelled with happiness over the verdict that was contained in our President ' s few words so full of meaning, These girls are all workers. Shall one of us ever forget the hour we all sat in trembling silence waiting for the closed doors of the President ' s office to open — waiting for the members of the faculty to pass from that long faculty meeting. during which our fates were to be decided, and at the close of which we should know how many of us had been pitched? Shall one of us ever forget the face of our President as he at last came to us, so grave and seemingly so troubled, and began speaking slowly: I regret very deeply — oh, heavens! Can it be we are nearly all pitched? That must be what he is going to say, gasped our frightened hearts; and none can forget how swift and bright was the change from seeming gravity to laughter, as he added: Yes, deeply regret to lose you all in January. It is small wonder that we almost went off into hysterics, for this was our President ' s way of announcing that we had the distinction of passing as an entire class to this, our graduation Mary Gr. y.

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were just talking about our classmates. Classmates, she said, why I saw Elizabeth King last week in Washington. She is director of the largest kindergarten there. You know she always had such a sweet, gentle manner, and e ery child in the training school lo ' ed her. Elizabeth said she went to see ' Janice Meredith ' played sometime ago. Whom do you suppose she saw playing the part of ' Janice? ' Dear old Claudia Perkins! Well, of course! we all exclaimed, and Mildred added, I always knew the stage was her ambi- tion. Elizabeth says, continued Carrie, that she would ha ' e known Claudis any- where by that same modest ' oice and dignified toss of the head. I suppose you have heard that Miriam Hearring is in German} ' taking a special course in kindergarten ntusic? Louise said. You remember she was just full of music. Yes, and I Avonder if she is always in as great a hurry as she used to be. and always as happy? That makes two musical geniuses in our class, Carrie answered. The other is Courtenay Taylor, the girl who knew she was going to be pitched even for a week after she recei ' ed her diploma. She is now director of the Wellesley Glee Club. Well, what surprise do you think I had in Lynchburg to-day? asked my classmate who was gracing the secretaryship. While I was waiting to take the train for Farm ' ille my attention was attracted to a couple setting near me in the .station. I noticed that the woman eyed me closely. Finally she came up to me and said, ' I am afraid you do not remember me. I am Mrs. Carnegie, formerly Annie McLaughlin. ' I was too amazed to speak. Think of Annie as the wife of a multi-millionaire! Surprising things will happen! Annie sat down beside me, and ' ery naturally our con ' ersation wandered back to our happy school life in Farm ille. ' I have a startling piece of ncAvs for you, ' said Annie. ' A few days ago, while glancing through a matrimonial journal, I read the following notice : Wanted — A middle aged lady suitable for a wife; she mvist have curly hair, rosy cheeks and brown eyes. The writer is tall, weighing three hundred pounds. He has dark com- plexion, is a little bald, and has one gray eye — the other was lost by accident. Who would ha ' e guessed that among the answers to this matrimonial query were two former class- mates of ours — no less than Bertie Eton and Ilia Miller, our timid girls from Bristol. ' That reminds me, said Mildred, that one of our girls has been disappointed in lo e — Martha Holman. I can never believe the man didn ' t love her, for such a happy nature as hers would win a heart of stone. She was promised the President ' s chair in the neA ' normal school the Legislatirre of Virginia is trying to establish, if she would do all in her power to secure a hundred thousand dollars endowment, but she gave a pointed ' No! ' and said, I shall ever be loyal to my own beloved school. Long live the present 8. N. S., and may the new one continue in its present state. ' Have you heard the latest honor that has come to the Janiiarv class of so long ago? asked Louise. Little blue-eyed Evangeline St. Clair Heterick has just been elected President of the Nature Study League of Virginia. You remember how well she taught this subject in the Training School. I thought then the future had something great in keeping for her. I saw Beulah Tillar about two weeks ago, Carrie added. She is editor of jokes, and grinds for the Richmond Times-Dispatch, and tills the position well. Yo i remember she was always making some witty remark. What has become of the twins? I asked. Oh, Bessie and Carrie McGeorge? answered Mildred. Well, that ' s a joke. They had positions in Woman ' s College, Rich- mond, biit the girls could not distingviish one from the other, so they said some change must be made, e ' en if it were only in the noses. Well, it was impossible to decrease the length, and it would have been crviel to have made their noses any longer, so their resig- nations were asked for. Their last resort was to marry one off. As usual, the bad luck came to Carrie. The funniest part about it is that her husband hasn ' t found out yet which one he has. Bessie i s now principal in some school with Miss Dunn as assistant. Just here a rat crossing the room on his nocturnal parade awoke me. I realized that my prophecy was all a dream, and that for the January Class of 1904 the future is still unread. Ethel Topping.